


Patchwork Foxy

by Ashna42



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Body Horror, Bullying, Emotional Hurt, Gore, Horror, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Insanity?, Not quite sure how much detail I will go into but I will tag just in case, Origin Story, Original Character(s), This will be kind of par for the course for this series though, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-23 22:56:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19160686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashna42/pseuds/Ashna42
Summary: This is for an art exchange with a friend of mine. This is the origin story for her original character, Patchwork Foxy, follows the story of Rowan, a girl looking for power.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm a bit clueless when it comes to the lovely FNAF fandom, but my friend sure as hell is, and I am writing this for her in exchange for some art of my OCs. I hope you like it Rose, and if someone else likes it it'd be pretty neat too.

A pair of searching eyes flicked rapidly up and down. They looked for approval in the face of the supervising teacher of Rowan’s third period robotics class, and they looked from her creation that sat, shiny, finished, and impressive, on her desk. She had strayed a bit from the lesson plan for this one, and it turned out all the more wonderful because of it. The teacher made her usual rounds amongst the other students, making comments of approval or criticism, and appraising their projects. A particularly big deal was made of the student two desks down Rowan’s row. The boy’s robot was ambitious, and worked reasonably well at its given task. The teacher gave some tips on how to approve, but generally just heaped on the approval.

  
Rowan knew hers was better, and eagerly sat on her hands, waiting on her turn. Her neighbor was absent today, so she would be appraised next. She didn’t necessarily want to be a show-off, but would do anything to plant the seed in her classmates’ heads that she was smarter than they gave her credit for.  
The teacher gave a glance down at her project, and then picked up the boy’s and headed to the front of the class. The teacher called the attention of the other students to show them, and lectured a little bit about why the robot was good, how the boy was brilliant, and why following her directions was always the best course of action. She dallied on the subject until the bell, Rowan suspected, so that she didn’t have to come and appraised her pile of scrap.

  
With a sigh, Rowan stifled the ember of annoyance that stirred in her, and began to pack her things. A backpack being swung onto one of her classmate’s shoulder sent her project flying off her desk and clattering onto the floor. With a panicked squeak, she gathered the pieces and quickly reassembled them. She hoped that nothing had been damaged so badly that it stopped working tomorrow. All of her classmates left without helping. Her teacher stuck her nose into her computer and ignored her the best she could.

  
With the break between third and fourth period came a continuous source of grief for Rowan. She considered going straight to her math class but, like she always does, decided against it. She felt the pressure to be social just like everyone else, so she slinked over to the group of people that she had decided to call friends.  
Her presence hadn’t been acknowledged long enough to interrupt their conversation, so she just melded into the edge of the group, making eye contact with whoever happened to be speaking at the time, just listening. Always listening.

  
As the group dispersed to head to their classes, Rowan tagged along with the girl Saydie. She was by far the nicest, and Rowan had been wanting to see if she wanted to go from being her fake friend, to being her real friend. She asked Saydie if she wanted to go to the river with her during the coming weekend.

  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Saydie said with a smile that looked at least a little bit genuinely regretful, “I know you don’t get along, but I already made plans with Alison this weekend, I won’t be able to go.”

  
The name made Rowan’s heart leaped to her throat. She felt a phantom pain in her hand from the broken finger she had to nurse back to health because of that girl. She cast her dulled eyes to the ground and nodded. She lied to Saydie that she understood why she hung out with her peer-aged tormentor.

  
A large pebble was her company on the walk back home. She kicked it as hard as her stride allowed, and listened to the rattles of the stone skittering over the baking sidewalk. She tried to think about her next robotics assignment to distract herself from the fact that she was going home. It took her a moment to realize that the shrill scream she heard was something that her ears had picked up, not something that had manifested in her head.

  
She whipped her head up, looking for the sound. She was at the point in her journey where she was walking next to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaria. It was a pretty innocuous Chuck E Cheese rip-off, but the head mascot bear had always unnerved her a little bit.

  
She decided the scream must have been some over-excited child at a birthday party. The scream sounded like it belonged to someone young enough for that to be the case.

  
She tried to gauge the mood of the house as she walked up to her front door. By the light of the living room she could tell that her mother was home. She noticed the TV was turned off, so she was likely in her chair reading, which meant that she would probably be in a fairly good mood so long as she was quiet. She opened the front door cautiously.  
She slipped her shoes off, and peeked into the living room. Her mother’s honeyed curls bobbed as she glanced up at her, and then back to her book. Rowan scuffled back to her room.

  
Off came the backpack, and her socks. She took her binder and textbooks out and spread them on her bed. She only had a few worksheets to do today, so she wanted to knock them out of the way really quick so she could try to enjoy the rest of her free time that day. She plugged in her headphones, and charged at her work, finishing the papers in a little less than forty-five minutes. She figured she might be able to have a half hour or so for herself before she was expected to start dinner or other chores. She swung herself over and plopped into her desk chair, and opened her laptop.

  
“ROWAN!” Called her mother’s voice from the living room.

  
She closed the laptop.

  
“You didn’t even say hi to me today when you came home,” her mother began, in her scathing tone the moment Rowan stepped into the living room.

  
She apologized, deciding not to point out the fact that her mother hadn’t greeted her either.

  
Her mother heaved an overly-dramatic sigh. Rowan cared more about her potential wrath more than any disappointment she was trying to convey.

  
“Well, how about you stay out here with your mother for a little bit? You’re always hiding in your room. I want you to be more social with your family when you’re here.” She said, feigning hurt, and giving a little decisive nod.

  
She sat on the couch, stiff and uncomfortable in the woman’s presence, and pretending to care about the television program she had put on in lieu of acknowledging or talking to her daughter. This could have been worse, but Rowan grieved the loss of her free time.

  
With a reminder from her mother than dad would be home soon, Rowan started on dinner. She mindlessly stirred a pot of gurgling red marinara, her eyes glazed over, and the cloying smell of tomato the only thing anchoring her to this earth. At some point her dad had walked in and given her a kiss on the back of her head. The pasta boiled away.  
At dinner she busied herself with being as quiet and unobtrusive as possible. Her father’s cheeriness would only last so long. A quip from her mother, and a scared look from Rowan was what had prodded the sleeping monster this time, and the night ended with Rowan washing spaghetti out of her hair. She was thankful she didn’t have to cover a bruise tomorrow, as today went a little better than usual.

  
She curled onto her bed, and fished her stuffed animal out from behind her bed. A small red fox was her substitute of choice for affection and, though her mother chided her for keeping something so childish and had long since gotten rid of her plushies, she had dutifully hid and cared for the little stuffed animal. Sleep came quickly, and she saw fire in her dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning sun fizzled weakly in the sky, struggling to burn off the choking fog that obscured Rowan’s vision. Her backpack had been dropped to the sidewalk as she gaped at the scene unfolding at the pizzeria.

  
She had paused on her morning walk at this sight of red and blue flashing lights slicing through the fog. The police were escorting a man wearing a suit the shade of a battered and bruised plum through the parking lot of Freddy Fazbear’s. He rubbed his wrists dispondantly and looked around defiantly, as if this were nothing more than a mild nuisance, and not the potential end of somebody’s free life. His face was sunken in and, despite the man’s air of indifference, his general frailty gave him the appearance of someone stubbornly resisting their pathetic, inevitable death.

  
He locked eyes with Rowan with a loud click as handcuffs were slapped unceremoniously onto him. His intense gaze stripped Rowan of her breath, and left an acrid taste in her mouth that made her own eyes tear up. This gaze that seemed to have no qualms destroying lives bored into her the entire time the man was escorted to the car. He craned his head to allow his suffocating gaze linger as long as it could, until his head finally ducked under the top of the police car.

  
Rowan tried to slow her frantic breathing, and lowered the hand she hadn’t realized had been clutched over her racing heart. Fear and relief caused tears to flood her eyes. With wobbly knees, she picked up her backpack, and began to sprint the rest of the way to school, the thick fog burning her lungs.

\---

The Thursday paper the next morning told her the story of William Afton, a suspected serial child kidnapper and murderer who had been detained at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Young children had gone missing months ago and, while there were never any bodies found, they had been presumed dead. Afton would be tried in court in the following months.

  
A dark spot of liquid bloomed from the middle of the newspaper, and spread, dripping, scalding hot onto Rowan’s legs. She glanced upward into a sneering face, holding an empty tipped-over paper coffee cup a foot or so above her lap.

  
“Whoops,” said the disingenuous, sing song voice belonging to Alison. “It’s not as if anyone even reads the newspaper anyways, or looks at your disgusting legs for that matter.”  
Rowan’s disgusting legs carried her to the bathroom so that she could try to clean up before class. The hole in her ripped jeans chaffed the welt that was starting to form on her leg uncomfortably.

\---

On a Friday closer to summer, Rowan was forced into a conversation with her mother.

  
“Dear, I’m worried about you. You should hang out with some of your friends some more,” Her smiled tried to be some sort of sweet. “You’re always cooped up in the house ever since that Betty girl moved away.”

  
Rowan reminded her mother that Elizabeth had been gone for nearly six years. A scowl flashed across her mother’s glossy lips, only to be replaced with another fake-sweet smile.

  
“Oh, dear, I know. You must be so lonely. What about that Saydie girl? You should go see her this weekend!” She suggested.

  
Surprised that she had remembered a second name from someone in her life, Rowan told her that Saydie would be caught up with Alison this weekend. Frustrated, her mother loudly scoffed and rolled her eyes, insisting that she had no idea why Rowan refused to be friends with this girl. Any friends of Saydie’s was probably just fine. She never believed the bruises, scrapes, burns, and other wounds. Rowan realized that her father would be gone for the weekend, and her mother likely wanted to utilize the free time with a friend or lover, so Rowan took on the duty of making herself scarce.

  
Walking around town aimlessly lead her in the dusk of Saturday evening to a building that caught her attention. The sign for Fazbear Fright flickered, and Rowan wondered how such a new building could already look so decrepit.

  
The memory of a certain kidnappers eyes burned inside her head. Despite the terror she had felt that day, she felt compelled to know more about the mysterious franchise and its creepy bear mascot. She clambered over the fence with relative ease, and found that the lock on the front door had been broken.

  
The drab interior held only dust to greet Rowan as she crept inside. The dim colors, and run-down, creaky building sent a chill up her spine, as if the interior designer’s goal had been to suffocate any living soul that stepped inside with its oppressive atmosphere. The beam of dusk-light that shone through the open door fell upon some brochures. Rowan found that, apparently, the building was some sort of amusement park, or haunted house, trying to convince people that the disappearance of children in their previous restaurants had either never happened, or were actually kind of fun and charming anyways. The whole situation reeked of poor taste so badly that Rowan wrinkled her nose.

  
She wandered a little throughout the front portion of the building, not quite so unnerved by the dilapidated interior now that she knew it was likely intentional to make the building seem scarier. A loud clattering noise from towards the back of the building only aroused her curiosity further. She wandered back to investigate.

  
The smell of old blood hit her like a wall, and made her gag a little as she stepped into an office. Ancient security equipment adorned the small room, as did a hulking yellow rabbit. It sat, mouth agape, in the corner of the room, dejected, clearly of the same design as the creepy bear mascot. The smell grew stronger as she stepped closer to it. A pair of extraordinarily human eyes opened up and stared at her through the hollow eyes of the rabbit. With a groan both mechanical and vocal, it stood to its full height of around seven feet. Its blood-stained fabric melted down its body, exposing a sort of endoskeleton underneath the ratty yellow fur. Its movements were slightly too human to completely understand, and Rowan’s heels hit the wall behind her.

  
It lumbered over, whimpering in pain, until it stood towering above Rowan’s paralyzed body. The same terrorizing gaze pierced through the head of the rabbit, though the eyes were grayed and dull now behind this new mask.

  
Rowan asked if he had learned his lesson.

  
“Of course not, my child,” Afton’s voice croaked painfully through the mask, “I’m a monster. I just look the part now.”

  
And monstrous only barely covered how Rowan felt about this thing. A weak human and a cartoon bunny combined into a terrible, imposing masterpiece. Rowan didn’t doubt that he could kill her easily, but she suspected he was in too much pain to do so. She asked if she could stay for the night.

  
Afton stumbled back to the corner and painfully sat back down.

  
Throughout the evening, she learned of the court trial that had let Afton go. He refused to tell why he had ended up into the suit. Rowan wandered around the building. A closet in the very, very back of the building held a few more decrepit, smelly robots, including the creepy bear mascot. She settled down for the night in the lap of a mangy pirate fox, strangely comforted by him and the other frightening robots. Her dreams were slightly painful.


End file.
